


Internal Countdown

by ItsFunnierInEnochian42



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, New Year's Kiss, New Years
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-15
Updated: 2018-01-15
Packaged: 2019-03-05 01:40:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13377411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItsFunnierInEnochian42/pseuds/ItsFunnierInEnochian42
Summary: Dean and Cas are waiting for the ball to drop in Times Square and in those last few seconds before the new year, Dean comes to the realisation that he has feelings for Cas.





	Internal Countdown

**Author's Note:**

> So here’s another real small oneshot I’ve written for my monthly prompts! 
> 
> In this one, I chose to go with a countdown before New Year, and since I like to set new challenges for myself, I also decided to NOT use any names. I hope the story is still clear and easy to read. As always constructive criticism is always appreciated, remember that English isn’t my first language and this didn’t go through my beta’s hands so any mistakes are mine :) 
> 
> See ya next month xx

_**********10** _

He turns around to look at the man standing next to him. His hair is all messy, as always, going up in every direction. Snowflakes are smoothly landing on his head, little diamonds falling from the sky, giving him an angelic look. He could see every single snowflake landing on his hair, the blackness of it making an amazing contrast with the purity of fresh snow. They slowly melt away, leaving a small drop of water hanging from the tip of his hair, similar to morning dew.

 

_**9** _

His eyes are riveted to the giant glowing screen, so blue and pale in the darkness of the night. Someone could easily drown in them if they looked long enough, being so mesmerizing. They are always blue or gray, but you have to look at his eyes to know there are endless possibilities and mixes and layouts of blue and gray, none of them quite the same. They are shining with anticipation and wonder as the numbers change, this thing a whole new experience to him.

 

_**8** _

The cold air floating around them taints his cheeks a soft pink, enhancing the contrast of his skin. He looks down at his face, and he wants to softly rub his hands over his cheek to make sure he’s going to be okay. He wants to kiss every inch of his cheeks to warm them up again, to make sure he doesn’t get frostbites and hurt himself.

 

_**7** _

His lips are a pale pink, the same color as a rose bud. He has a natural cupid’s bow that just begs for a tender kiss, and his bottom lip would be the perfect thing to bite on. They are moving smoothly as he forms his syllables, counting backwards. His teeth graze upon his bottom lip as he pronounces the “v” of the word, stretching it momentarily. They are constantly chapped, faint lines of dry skin traveling from the inside of his mouth all the way to the frontier of his lips. But that doesn’t prevent him from admiring them. He has never seen lips so fascinating before.

 

_**6** _

His tongue brushes against his teeth as the number flows out of his mouth, excitement seeping in his tone. He licks his bottom lip in anticipation, his tongue shining in the blue light of the night, his breath smoking in the chill air. As he looks down at his mouth, he can’t help but imagine how it would feel like to have that tongue lick his own lips, opening his own mouth in a tentative kiss.

 

_**5** _

His eyes wander down to his strong jaw, slack with amazement. His chin is pointed toward the sky, making it easy for everyone to see his sand-rough stubble going slightly down his neck. He hasn’t shaved in a few days and he can’t help thinking, as he looks at the skin of his jaw, that he’d like to know what it feels like to kiss him there and test the roughness of it on his lips.

 

_**4** _

He moves down to the rest of his friend’s body, wanting to remember this moment for as long as he could, engraving it in his memory. He is tall, almost as tall as him. His shoulders are large, stretching the beige trenchcoat he is always wearing. He is standing straight, his entire body stretched like he wants to reach for the sky, or like he’s about to spread giant wings and take flight. His arms are extended on his sides, slowly moving to the rythm of his breathing, his shoulders relaxed and tensed at the same time, waiting for the last seconds to resonate in the cool air of the night.

 

_**3** _

As their eyes lock, they don’t notice the crowd around them anymore. The one, booming voice of thousands of people screaming the same thing suddenly sounds like they are a lot farther than in the middle of all of it. The flashes of lights and the movement that this huge mass creates as people move all together doesn’t feel so unusual anymore. It doesn’t feel like they are out of their comfort zone. The energy, the excitement that is flowing through everyone is suddenly magnified as it flows through them, and seems to make them come closer together.

 

_**2** _

He finally understands. It took him many years, many moments, many events to finally understand, but now, as the countdown comes to an end, he gets it. He knows what this is, that profound bond, that connection they seem to have. The way this man always comes when he calls, the way he does everything to make sure he is okay. The way they both take care of each other, the way they look at each other like it’s the last time they’ll see one another. He’d mistaken it for brotherly love, but that is more than that, so much more. And he finally accepts it.

 

_**1** _

It’s clear now in both of their minds what’s going to happen, but they seem to be okay with it. None of them tries to move away, they just go with the flow. He’s done waiting. He’s done faking. He’s done denying. He is ready to jump right in and experience new things with the one person on this earth that makes him feel something so strong. He’s tired of losing him and acting like it isn’t bothering him so much, he’s tired of the looks his brother gives him, because he knows, he’s known for much longer than him, but never acted upon it. But this is it, this is the last moment before, finally, their lips crash together as the fireworks explode in the sky, as the Times Square ball drops.

 

_**0** _

He expected fireworks, tingles of desire or excitement, or even complete disgust, maybe, but not this. He has never expected to feel it flowing through his body, making every part of him go numb and electrified. His brain stops working, all of his attention focused on this new experience. He doesn’t hear the crowd screaming around them, he doesn’t notice other couples kissing near them. He doesn’t even notice when someone steps on his foot and apologizes. They are flush against each other, warming up in the heat bubble they are creating together. They melt into each other. Their breaths fog the air. He tastes like coffee, with a little touch of honey, the scent so soft and hypnotizing that he just wants more of it. His stubble is prickly, but not too prickly that he wants to pull away. His lips are so much softer than they look like, velvet skin so tender he has chills. The other’s tongue timidly tries to push against his lips, and he complies without hesitation. It feels hot and wet and amazing and he wraps his own tongue around it, tasting the honey, trying to convey all his feelings, all his love, all his apology for taking so long, for all the time lost in the kiss. He can feel his face heating up against his, and he knows the other’s cheeks are burning red with lust. His eyes are closed, but he knows he doesn’t need to see the steel blue of his pupils to know how expressive they are, to know every word he wants to communicate. His hands are in his hair, making every snowflake fall on his shoulders and face. He had expected fireworks. Instead, he feels comfortable, and for once in a really, really long time, at peace.


End file.
